I will always be there
by halbarath
Summary: With Soubi missing, Kio reflects on their relation. One-shot.


_Disclaimer : not mine. All belong to Yun Kouga. I don't make any money out of it. _

**I will always be there**

He had fallen in love with his art, first and foremost. The first time he had seen it, he had been mesmerized. The painting had been so technical and yet delicate, soft and melancholic. He had to meet the painter— male or female, it didn't matter. This piece of art had appealed to him, beyond the mere artistic interest.

But the art reflected nothing of its owner. While the former was an invitation to stare at it and spend time contemplating it, the latter was anything but. His closed-off posture, his sour disposition, his less than polite attitude, all bespoke of an aversion for others' attention and would rebuff most. But he had never been like most people. And these paintings were beautiful. The painter could not be that off-putting, it must have been a facade.

He took it upon himself to crack his mask and get to know the real persona, the one who could paint so marvellously. It hadn't been easy and more than once, he had thought about throwing in the towel. But then, there would be another painting and it would draw him back towards Soubi. Slowly, painfully, he got to know him a little better. He told him about his intake on art. Indeed, it must have been the first thing they really, seriously talked about. He picked up his quirks and the tiny indicators of his mood. He finally managed to read his posture correctly— most of the time at least. He discovered most of his attitude stemmed from uneasiness in social interactions, especially with women, and lack of good will because he could be very charming when he decided to. What broke the ice however was the tattoo on his back. If he had known it would bring such a radical change of Soubi's disposition, he would have undressed much earlier. From then on, Soubi had felt comfortable enough with him and had been less strained in his presence. He had invited himself more than once into Soubi's flat and they've undertaken several joined-project for college. But that was only the tip of the iceberg.

One day, he discovered the other side of the coin. When his friend hadn't shown up at college for a few days in a row, he had worried. He had often noticed the scratches and small hurts on Soubi's body— what was visible at least, and that wasn't much. They had intrigued him. He had felt pity and sympathy for him also. Somehow, it had moved him, the way a child would have and he had become more attached to him, made him even more obstinate in befriending him. He wanted to comfort him, to soothe him. But Soubi had always brushed his concern aside so he hadn't insisted. That day, he had come unannounced, convinced he must be down with some common disease, with enough food to cheer him up and nurse him back to good health. But when he came in, he saw far too much of his friend's body in one go. He hadn't been prepared for the numerous scars he found there. And when Soubi had turned to grab his shirt, he caught a glimpse of his throat. He had to admit, he freaked out. The ensuing fight had been memorable.

He had raged and yelled and ranted and raved afterwards, for days and weeks on end but nothing would deter Sou-chan. And if their fellow students had found him unprepossessing before, they quickly discovered a whole new level to his unpleasantness. It took time to mend the tentative friendship they had managed until that fateful day but once they did, it was far stronger. Secure in the bond they had formed, they shared more of their personal life which was anything but easy. Soubi learnt he was estranged from his family, cast out and looked down upon because he was a man. Soubi told him he was an orphan, brought up by a hard man who had no patience nor tolerance for the cares and worries of a young child and thrown him out when he was seventeen. And still, most of Soubi's life remained a mystery to him. Apart from Seimei Aoyagi.

Seimei. He hated him with a passion. Seimei was all Soubi talked about and still, he knew next to nothing about him or their relation. He knew he wasn't a friend and that Soubi didn't like him. He was observant. Seimei was the only number in Soubi's phone— apart from his own, which he had personally typed in. Whatever the hour, whatever Soubi was doing, he would drop it immediately and go away at the first ring of his phone. It wouldn't do to make Seimei wait. And most of the time, he would come back looking worse for wear. Sometimes, he would disappear for a few days and he would lose sleep over it meanwhile. Over time, Soubi conceded to send him a message to let him know he'd be gone. That's all he'd been able to get out of him and that certainly wasn't enough to assuage his worries.

Seimei. The way Soubi talked about him— it was wrong. This fearful fervour, this blind devotion and worship of a mere teenager was unnerving. It wasn't jealousy per se. Yes, he made passes at Sou-chan but he knew Soubi would never take him up on the offer. It was his way to tell him there were other ways than the abusive relation he had with Seimei. He was not deluded; it clearly was a one-way relation and Sou-chan was not the winner.

Seimei. Seimei. Seimei. Soubi's world revolved around him. No-one and nothing would depose him. He seemed to be the only one capable of shaking his friend's self-control. Only Seimei's call could bring such a genuine and happy smile on his face. Only Seimei's call could ruin Soubi's contentment and break him completely. His most striking paintings were always created after he had met with Seimei. Seimei, the only one who could mess his friend so thoroughly. Who could yell and beat and cut and scar him and get away with it. If he had known at that time the true nature of their bond or its extent, maybe he wouldn't have tried so hard and remained at Soubi's side. Somehow, he was glad he had despite the present circumstances.

And then Seimei died. For the first time in his life, he had rejoiced over a lost life. He shouldn't have but he had no qualms about it. Seimei was a conniving, cruel brat who most certainly had deserved to burn. He had felt relieved too; his friend wouldn't be hurt again. He was finally free of his brutal hold. But Soubi wouldn't hear any of it. He seemed lost for lack of a better word. Directionless. Orphaned. Despondent. The day he discovered Seimei's death, he didn't paint. Nor did he the following days. It was unusual; he always painted feverishly when he was troubled. It was also very disturbing to see him remaining motionless, staring into space.

Quite suddenly and too suddenly to be a coincidence, he seemed to be his old self again. He prodded and it wasn't long before Soubi told him about Ritsuka, eyes alight with the same fervour he had sported for Seimei. And thus Soubi was hurt again, repeatedly and seemed almost glad over it. He felt sick. Weeks went by before he met Seimei's brother and it was under less than ideal circumstances. Driving to Gōra for a child he was prejudiced against was not his idea of fun. But Ritsuka turned out different from what he had expected. First, he had manners— surprising coming from a bully's brother. And he seemed parched for information on his brother. The way he asked why he hated Seimei with those big, fearful, watery eyes— he couldn't resist pestering him. Clearly, he had been different with Ritsuka. The child was stubborn to be sure; he awaited answers while knowing he wouldn't like them. Still, why ask if he intended to dismiss the notions? And why would Soubi refute him? He was not a liar. Ritsuka had asked, he had answered. If he was old enough to get Sou-chan hurt, he was old enough to be told the truth about his brother. What did he care if the process was painful? It wasn't like he was fond of the child. He didn't even know him. He heard him deny everything. But he persisted. Seimei had hurt Sou-chan deeply and there was no way he'd let the kid go still believing his brother was the perfect model of kindness. He watched Ritsuka as he seemed to curl on himself and ponder, his head bent down, his hair slightly hiding his face. Then unexpectedly, he saw a tear roll down his cheek. He was suddenly less biased against him. If he could cry over the matter, then there was no way he was similar to his brother. They may look alike but they hadn't much in common. Then they made a stop and everything changed. When he had hassled Ritsuka before, he hadn't meant to hurt him — or Soubi, so much. He wanted the boy to know about his brother, about how he had treated Sou-chan. He had wanted to assure himself it wouldn't happen again now that Soubi was with him. He had never thought, not in his wildest dreams, that his words could hold so much power. He had felt powerless when he had seen them in the back seat, both clearly hurt and unresponsive, the kid's back on them, shaking slightly and Soubi's defeated attitude. He could perfectly guess what had happened in his absence; Ritsuka had demanded to know what violence, what scars he had been talking about. And Soubi had obliged, of course he would. They definitely had a very strange relationship those two. What was Ritsuka to Soubi exactly? Why would Soubi defer to a mere child?

Gōra had been unpleasant and had brought forth more complications and questions than answers.

First, he'd been cast out — again. Then he'd frozen his ass out waiting before being kidnapped and thrown behind bars. Honestly, he had tagged along expecting some shreds of explanation. He was left with a mysterious twin, strange duos and enough food for thought for a lifetime. Not more than a day had gone by before Soubi, Ritsuka and the two chibis retrieve him — and what a strange coincidence that they were in Gōra too.

He had used that time to ponder on Sou-chan's relation to the Aoyagis. The secretary at the establishment had dubbed Ritsuka as Soubi's master. That would explain a lot. And yet, he had never seen Ritsuka treat Soubi as a servant, not in any way or form. But that would explain his friend's unwavering deference to the boy. And since he had been even worse when Seimei was still alive, he could safely assume he had been his previous master. A master who could cut and abuse him without any retribution. It didn't explain Soubi's willingness to submit. But at least, Soubi's outlook on his scars seemed less obscure.

He'd also paid attention to his captors. Two of them, one with a word tattooed on his face— like Beloved on his friend's throat. Seimei's name. Were they all connected somehow? There was no lost love between Hideo and Yuri-sama yet they still seem to know each other very well, enough to be on familiar terms. _"Seimei is not my friend_. _"_ This is what Soubi had said, long ago. Awareness and a semblance of understanding prickled at his mind. He was onto something.

That left the matter of his supposedly twin sister. His daughter had not been forthcoming — not that she ever was. He had no one to turn to for an explanation. Why had she asked if he had forgotten? How could one forget his twin? There was no way he would have. And he would know if he'd lost memories. Like Ritsuka did.

No, he wasn't fine. But he would be, eventually, since he didn't have much more choice than move forward.

He finally managed to put all this at the back of his mind and regain some semblance of normalcy. He knew it had been hard on his friend too but like him, he was going ahead. Over the next weeks, he saw and witnessed the changes in Soubi's behaviour get more pronounced; Ritsuka was good for him. Where he had failed to make him see reason, the boy would. His friend was softer and he smiled more. Not his small, wan smile. Not his nasty smirk either but real, genuine smiles of happiness and contentment. He seemed appeased when Ritsuka was present, more relaxed. He often reverted back to his old self, was more often than not wounded and tended to be far too close to Ritsuka who was still such a young child. But he could tell he was different. Just like the butterflies he painted so skilfully, he was reborn into a beautiful soul inside the chrysalis of Ritsuka's care and affection. The boy was so very unlike his brother. And whenever Sou-chan was hurt or wouldn't take care of himself properly, when he would speak ill of himself, Ritsuka would get angry. It never seemed to kindle any change but in the long-term it definitely had. For this, he would forever be grateful to him.

That's why he worried when he still hadn't got any news from Soubi for several days in a row. No friend at college. No phone call. No message. No one home. Not a single sign of life. He was so very worried. Since Sou-chan wouldn't answer him, he decided to go see Ritsuka. Surely he would know his whereabouts. But he hadn't known. And he hadn't been able to assuage his fears either. Rather, he'd worsened them.

Soubi was missing and unresponsive? Seimei was at fault. He'd have laughed his head off if Ritsuka hadn't been so serious. The child looked at him with such raw need and urgency in his eyes, such anger and despair in his voice, such determination and hopelessness on his face that the laugh had died in his throat. Seimei was dead, wasn't he? Well, apparently, he wasn't anymore. And Soubi had followed him. Again. Because that tosser had cut a name in his skin. How ridiculous was that? Ritsuka explained and he tried to make sense of it. He really tried to find meaning and reason behind all this madness but he couldn't. And as he stared at Ritsuka in disbelief, he saw the same lack of understanding reflected in his eyes. The same sadness and incredulity. He also saw his resolve; Ritsuka wouldn't give up on Soubi. Yet to know Sou-chan was being hurt because he was fighting for someone, he felt sick. The power of that name made him want to throw up. The mere idea Soubi was chained to someone was revolting. That this someone was Seimei was just too much to swallow. He was his dog; trained to defend, kept on a tight leash, bidding his commands and obeying to orders. Nauseating. Suddenly, the words he'd caught when held captive made much more sense. They had talked about _Seimei-san_. That had talked about another pair, a clingy one. All had clicked and when he had asked Ritsuka about it, he had been honest and told him what he knew about it. Beloved— that wasn't Soubi at all. Loveless — that wasn't Ritsuka at all. And still that's how they were named and what they should live up to. Ludicrous.

The mere fact he could do nothing to help and protect his friend from a teenager made his stomach lurch. He didn't dare think about how he will be when Ritsuka will bring him back. He's been around Sou-chan enough to have noticed how depressed and withdrawn he could become. Why was it that a twelve-years-old boy had more leverage than him? Why should he leave his friend's care in such young hands? Like everything concerning Soubi, it was weird and on the verge of immoral. But he believed in Ritsuka. He was a good kid and kept his word. He had said he would bring him back so he would. Until then, he would trust the boy and lend a hand. He couldn't do much more than that and providing a shoulder to cry on anyway. But he would definitely be there when Sou-chan will come back. Because Soubi always came back and Ritsuka had promised.

 **end**


End file.
